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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596288">I have only 'til the night is over</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/insteadofjust_invisible/pseuds/insteadofjust_invisible'>insteadofjust_invisible</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (Italy)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:13:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/insteadofjust_invisible/pseuds/insteadofjust_invisible</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“As Niccolò started to play, Martino let his mind wonder. Wonder at the possibilities of what  could come from meeting his neighbor, his very cute and very flirty neighbor, who was interesting and funny and, God, the textbook image of a Roman God. Wonder at how just one year ago he wouldn’t be caught dead flirting with another guy, let alone doing so over their balconies, from where anyone could hear them. Wonder at what else this lockdown had in mind for him, his friends and family back in Rome.”</p><p>or Marti and Nicco meet during quarantine from their balconies</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I have only 'til the night is over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="https://grvywaren.tumblr.com/post/614308118050045952/one-skam-a-day-keeps-the-quarantine-sadness-away">Skam week.</a></p><p>Title from When the Night is Over by Lord Huron</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martino had taken to reading on his balcony ever since the quarantine started. He would sit in one of the old metal chairs he had found at the curbside when he moved in, prop his feet up on the rail, and read. Most days he would have a cup of coffee or tea to help keep him warm. Most days, he would go out to read after lunch and stay until the singing started. See, Marti was by no means opposed to the balcony singing. He enjoyed it. Mostly. The problem was that he couldn’t concentrate on his readings when his neighbors were blasting off to different songs so loudly and, well, so off-key. Sure, he could take a break, but somehow his workload had increased since his classes resumed remotely and he still had basic human needs like sleeping and his apartment still needed cleaning and his food unfortunately hadn’t learned to cook itself during the quarantine. And if the singing - or, in this case, playing - had started earlier than normal, well, Marti was more than entitled to be annoyed at it. Just a little.</p><p>With a frustrated huff, Marti closed the book he was reading more forcibly than he needed to, causing the chair to tremble a bit and him to scramble to get his feet back on the ground before he fell over. Marti didn’t fall, despite his clumsiness, but the sudden movement caused the cup he forgot he was still holding to escape his hand and break into a dozen of pieces on the floor with a loud crack, causing the music to come to a halt and a short-breathed laugh to follow.</p><p>Confused, Marti looked up and immediately locked eyes with a guy around his age, sitting behind a keyboard just inside his own balcony across the street, fingers still positioned on the keys and face holding a smirk. The culprit of the early balcony singing that caused Marti to break one of his favorite mugs.</p><p>“You think this is funny?” he asked the guy, finally glad his street was on the narrower side of the scale, so he barely needed to raise his voice.</p><p>The guy laughed again, “don’t you think so?”</p><p>“Well, I’ll let you know that was one of my favorite mugs!”</p><p>Marti’s neighbor laughed even more, head bobbing and causing a strand of hair to fall in front of his eyes. If they were standing on the same balcony, Martino would move that strand back behind his ear, fingers caressing thro-</p><p>No, wait. That was not what he meant, at all. That wouldn’t do it at all. While Marti had to give in that the guy was sculpted like a Roman god, with porcelain like skin, dark hair and eyes, sharp cheekbones, he was not going to pay attention to such frugal things. He needed to study, for God’s sake. He needed to focus and finish his readings and he would not be able to do so if he stopped to admire how eerie the guy in front of him looked under the moonlight.</p><p>“I have never seen you before,” the guy commented, off-hand. That strand of hair that had fallen down still sitting stupidly in front of his eyes.</p><p>“I’m Martino.”</p><p>“Niccolò,” it seemed like this guy - Niccolò - never stopped laughing, because for some reason he was giggling at Marino, like his name was the funniest thing he had heard that day. Which might have been, considering he probably lived alone or, at most, with roommates. Most buildings in their neighborhood were inhabited by college students like Martino and, he assumed, Niccolò. Either way, Marti’s confusion was apparent in his face, because a few seconds later he heard “I’d most definitely shake your hand, but, you know, social distancing and all that.”</p><p>Oh. Maybe Martino had studied too much, the neurons on his brain past their processing abilities by now. Sheepishly, he retracted his hand, too awkward to know what to do with it before bringing it to scratch at the back of his neck. </p><p>“So…” Niccolò started, moving from his seat behind the keyboard to stand out in the balcony, “why don’t you ever join in the singing?”</p><p>“It is not 8pm yet.” The response came without thought, making Marti’s neighbor laugh again. Maybe he should rethink his career in communications and become a comedian instead. If tonight was any indication, he seemed to have a knack for it.</p><p>“I know. I was just practicing, I’ve been slacking off recently. But it doesn’t matter, you never join. Believe me, I would remember a face like yours.”</p><p>Niccolò finished with a wink, and Marti was sure his face looked like a tomato now, if it didn’t already.</p><p>“I’m not very musically inclined,” Martino decided on. He wasn’t about to tell his very cute and very flirty neighbor that he wasn’t all that into the balcony singing.</p><p>“Neither are most of our neighbors… The girl three balconies to your left sounds like thirty thousand four hundred and six nails scratching against a chalkboard.”</p><p>“Thirty thousand four hundred and six nails.”</p><p>“Yep,” Nico popped off the p at the end of his phrase, somehow managing to look extremely adorable in doing so. Since when Martino had had this guy as a neighbor and why was it he was only meeting him during a fucking nation wide quarantine? “So, what are you reading?”</p><p>Martino welcomed the change of subject to clear his head of such inopportune thoughts and picked up the book he had dropped earlier from the floor, showing it to Niccolò, “it’s for my Psychology of Communication class. I study Communication and Society at IULM.” </p><p>Niccolò hummed in response and added, “I study Music at the Conservatory,” a knowing smile just waiting for Martino to drag him.</p><p>“Ahh, that explains it,” and so he did, pointing to the piano and raising an eyebrow at the other boy.</p><p>“Guilty as charged. I’ll have you know, these music flash mobs are what’s keeping me in shape during the quarantine.”</p><p>“Well, if that’s the case…” Martino trailed off. Taking the unsaid invitation, Niccolò made his way back around the keyboard, settled in behind it, and looked back at Martino in expectation.</p><p>“Any requests?”</p><p>“Whatever speaks to your soul.”</p><p>“Prepare to be blown away then.”</p><p>As Niccolò started to play, Martino let his mind wonder. Wonder at the possibilities of what  could come from meeting his neighbor, his very cute and very flirty neighbor, who was interesting and funny and, God, the textbook image of a Roman God. Wonder at how just one year ago he wouldn’t be caught dead flirting with another guy, let alone doing so over their balconies, from where anyone could hear them. Wonder at what else this lockdown had in mind for him, his friends and family back in Rome. Wonder and wonder and wonder at the sound of Nicco’s music; the soft melody that brought peace with it, a calming feeling that took over Marti’s mind, body and soul. He hardly ever got lost in music like this. To Martino, music was background noise, just another part of his day-to-day. He had never understood what people meant when they raved about the sentiments attached to a certain song or how this or that artist matched this or that mood. Music was music. This though? This was more than music. This was magic.</p><p>At one point, more and more people joined in, violinists, guitarists, soloists, but Martino paid them no attention, too entranced by Niccolò’s playing. The raven haired boy moved his hands gracefully over the keys, with a speed inimaginable to Martino, head following the movements of his fingers, that one strand of hair that insisted on falling over creating unwelcome thoughts in Marti’s mind. The music, the atmosphere, the other boy all ignited a reaction out of Marti he did not expect. Hell, he did not expect a single thing from tonight, but while he might have had his qualms about it at the beginning of the night, he was way past that. That’s why when the music suddenly stopped and everyone clapped, he jumped in place, shaking his head to clear up the haze.</p><p>“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I-” he facepalmed at his own stupidity, seemingly forgetting Nicco - and all the other neighbors now - could hear him. </p><p>“That bad, uh?”</p><p>“No, no, that was fantastic, you were fantastic, I just didn’t realize time passing by and I still have an assignment to finish that’s due tomorrow morning and I-”</p><p>“Breath, Marti. It’s fine. Go do your assignment. I’ll be practicing again tomorrow, around the same time.”</p><p>At that, Marti broke into a small smile, “ok, yeah. Tomorrow then.”</p><p>With a smile mirroring Martino’s, Nicco parroted soft “tomorrow” back at the other boy, but he was already inside, leaning against the now closed door of his balcony, head turned back. 'Til tomorrow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Come say hi to me on my <a href="https://aspeckof-stardust.tumblr.com/">tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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